Hidden Shadows
by thelonglostpotter
Summary: Four children unable to continue living the lives they were given are brought together bringing out strengths in one another that they never knew they had. Keeping their true selves hidden from the world, what will happen when they need to return once again to the lives they left behind? Warning: mentions of child abuse. Characters renamed
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Set Up

"Boy, get in here. NOW!"

The sound of his uncle's shout shook the house. Seven year-old Harry Potter stood quickly, knowing the shout could be meant for none other than himself. With shaking fingers, he opened the door to his cupboard and carefully, so as not to make a sound, he shut it behind him and made his way down the corridor to the kitchen.

Harry did a quick look around the room as he entered. This kitchen, like all other rooms at No. 4 Privet Drive, was pristine. Not a single utensil out of place, not even the barest layer of dirt on any decoration or ornament. This was thanks to Harry, though no one would believe it if told nor did anyone actually thank him either.

His whale of a cousin, more often referred to as Dudley, stood proudly by the TV. A wide, and highly unattractive in Harry's opinion, smirk upon his face. A smirk clearly meant for Harry who, from previous experience of receiving said smirk, was able to shrug it off without second thought. Harry's aunt, Petunia, was standing beside the oversized beach ball, her horse like facial features scrunched up and one spindly hand resting on her son's shoulder. In front of them stood Vernon, Harry's uncle. His beady pig-like eyes bored into Harry with a sinister intensity that made the small boy shiver. He cracked his beefy hands as he took the steps to close the gap between them, now towering over the raven-haired child.

Harry was afraid of no one and nothing, but Vernon Dursley. Any other young boy would claim to hide such a terror, claim to be a big boy, but not Harry. Harry was clever, he was able to use his fear and hide himself behind it. He let himself shiver in fear when Vernon tried to intimidate him, messed up on his chores occasionally and gave them his best panicked doe-eyed look when Petunia yelled and punished him for it, he let Dudley push him around and treat him like a walking punch bag. Harry allowed them to think they had the upper hand over him, keep them in the dark about how smart and strong he truly was.

"Do you realise how lucky you are that we let you stay under our roof?" Vernon snarled menacingly though not hiding the smile on his piggy face. "We feed you, we clothe you, and we give you a place to sleep. Don't we?"

Harry stayed silent. "Don't we?" his uncle repeated, his tone rose.

Harry mentally face palmed, wrong move. "Yes, sir," he said meekly, not looking up.

"Why then," Vernon continued, "would you steal Dudley's school paper and swap it for yours?"

Harry looked up in shock. That was not what he'd been expecting. "What?" he squeaked.

"Come on boy, do you really think we're stupid?" Vernon drawled, smirking down at Harry. "The school called to tell us you got full marks on a test. You. Stupid little Potter who can barely see straight and is too stupid to know his own name? We knew there was something up, so Pet and I asked Dudley."

Harry cast his eyes quickly to his cousin who was standing in his mother's embrace with a triumphant look on his face.

"My little boy told me all about you, how you threatened him into giving you his test paper and said you'd hurt him if he didn't," Petunia shrieked, clutching the little whale tighter. "My poor little Dudders," she whispered, petting his head.

_Can they really be that stupid? _Harry asked himself. _Dudley is the size of an average pig while I look like a pole. How would I ever be able to threaten _him_? They can't actually believe that, can they?_ One look at his aunt, then another at his uncle, and his answer was clear. Those two would believe anything their little _angel_ sprouted, no matter how ridiculously dim-witted it may be. _Damn, I knew I should've flunked that test. _Harry mentally reprimanded himself.

"I will have none of your hoodlum attitude, boy," Vernon was saying. "If you're going to stay with us you will obey our rules and you will behave."

_Fist to palm, fist to palm. _Harry watched his uncle movements as he came closer still. _Not again. _Harry braced himself; he knew what was coming next.

"I think we need to teach you a lesson, boy," he growled. "And this time you better learn."

Then came the first hit.

HP-HP-HP-HP-HP

Harry awoke the next morning to the slam of the front door. It was a Saturday morning. The Dursley's were paying a weekend visit to Vernon's grotesque sister, Marge. Harry was always grateful to be left alone.

On trying to sit up, his ribs protested. Harry pulled off his bloodied shirt and ran a hand over his chest. He was so skinny he could see every single rib clearly. None were obviously broken, which was a good thing, but his whole front was covered with cuts and black bruises. His back was probably worse considering he's been treated to Vernon's belt as well as kicking. Opening his mouth he felt the cracked blood break, reopening his bottom lip. As the trickle of blood began to fall down his chin, Harry rose slowly and reached for his cupboard door. It was locked, obviously.

"Open," he told the lock on the other side, his hand hovering where he knew it to be.

Harry had always known he was special. He could make things happen just because he wanted them to, without doing anything. Like the time Petunia had tried putting on an old disgusting orange jumper of Dudley's on him but it just kept shrinking every time she tried until eventually it was no bigger that doll sized. Or when their primary school teacher, Mr Hershel, had made a joke at Harry's expense and suddenly his hair turned blue. Harry had investigated the extent of these 'powers' on the broken toys he'd found under his cot. Upon realising he could definitely make the headless toy soldier fly, he began testing on bigger things. Like his cleaning up chores. Eventually he'd reached a point where he felt he'd mastered his powers. He found that if he focused on what he wanted hard enough, it would happen.

Unlocking his cupboard was simple for the seven year-old by now. He often used the skill to sneak out at night for food or medical supplied, both were often needed as he never was fed by the Dursley's, unless they needed him to do some big chore like mowing the lawn, and he was often beaten up and just thrown into his cupboard.

The lock was quick to click open and Harry tumbled out of his cupboard, moaning lightly as he felt a couple of cuts reopen. Hobbling into the kitchen, he pulled a chair over to the cabinet, which held the salves and plasters. Harry was careful to only use as little as possible, which ended up being more than he would've liked, it wouldn't do for the Dursleys to realise he'd not only gotten out of his cupboard but was also trying to heal the wounds they'd inflicted upon him.

"Do you_ realise_ how _lucky _you are that we_ let _you stay under our roof?" Harry muttered sarcastically, remembering Vernon's words from the night before, as he opened the fridge and reached for the butter and cheese. "We _feed_ you, we _clothe_ you, and we _give_ you a place to sleep. _Don't we_?" he went on as he buttered the piece of bread he'd found. "Idiots, you're all idiots."

He gobbled up his little breakfast knowing he couldn't afford to take any more without it being noticed. Opening the drawer where the washing up liquid was kept, so as to begin hiding the evidence of his eating, he discovered an old white envelope that definitely hadn't been there before. It was an old white envelope that looked very full. _But full of what? _Harry found himself wondering. He'd never been one who was able to curb his curiosity so, naturally, he reached for the envelope to look at what it contained.

"Wow," Harry's jaw dropped, despite the pain. Within the envelope was a bunch twenty pound notes, a huge bunch of twenty pound notes. Harry guessed he was holding at least one thousand pounds in twenties. "Wow," he said again. Harry took a moment to imagine the possibilities with such an amount of money.

_I could buy enough food to last me a whole year_. He imagined, mouth watering at the very prospect. _I could buy a warm blanket for my cupboard. I could buy myself a pair of shoes that fit, second hand obviously so the dumb Dursleys don't notice. I could… I could… _Then the idea hit him. The one thing he'd longed for, something he'd dreamed of he'd dreamed of for as long as he could remember. _I could leave. _A huge smile spread on his face and made no effort to hold it back as he pulled the money out of the envelope and ran his hands over it. _I could find an old rucksack in Dudley's room, stuff it with food from the fridge, grab my notebook, take the money and leave. Leave and never come back. _

Harry took a step to leave the kitchen and begin heading up to Dudley's second bedroom for some old bag he wouldn't miss, but paused. Could he really do this? For a moment, he pondered the chances of the Dursleys finding him and the trouble he'd be in, real trouble. Obviously they wouldn't care that he'd left, but taking the money and their food, that meant trouble. Harry was hesitating.

_No Harry. Don't think of that. _He told himself sharply, shaking his head. _This is the chance you've been waiting for it. You're too clever not to take it. You're also too clever to get caught by them. _

It was decided. Harry was finally going to leave. He spent his time preparing, making sure he had salves to continue treating his cuts, emptying the fridge into his bag with a smirk plastered on his face thinking of what the Dursleys would say when they got back the next day. He almost grabbed some clothes but quickly just dumped them back in his cupboard remembering he could buy his own clothes now, and in a size that would fit too!

The last thing to add was his notebook. It was an old black book he'd found in the attic one day when he'd been hiding from Dudley. Inside had been one photo. A red haired woman with bright green eyes standing beside a tall man with unruly black hair and intriguing hazel eyes hidden behind round glasses. Harry easily matched his eyes to those of the woman and his hair and facial features to the man. They were his parents. Harry treasured the photo and used the notebook as means to talk to them. He would write to them whenever there was something on his mind that he wished to share with someone. Of course, he never did get a reply but that didn't matter to Harry. He felt connected to them through the notebook and that was all that mattered.

With all these things packed, he was ready to leave. And so it was on September 4th 1987 that Harry Potter left No. 4 Privet Drive.

"One foot in front of the other," Harry reminded his giddy self as he took off, sprinting as far as his small legs would take him from No. 4 Privet Drive. He carried a bag of food weighing at least thrice his own weight and the money stored safely in a hidden pocket in the back of it.

So excited at the prospect of freedom, the small boy forgot to watch where he was running, not noticing the broken paving stone. His foot caught, causing him to go flying and land sprawled on the pavement with one arm dangling into the street. Pulling back slowly, Harry rubbed his head and quickly checked his knees for scrapes. There was a bit of blood but nothing he couldn't deal with. Harry had lived with Dudley most of his life so this was nothing to him.

Sitting up, Harry's ears peaked at faint whooshing sound coming from behind him. Turning around, his bright green eyes saw nothing but the empty street. He picked himself up off the pavement, dusting off his hands on his oversized trousers, intending the continue his epic journey, but stopped again as the whooshing noise continued, getting louder and louder.

Turning around once again, Harry's eyes went wide at the side of a blue bus speeding down Privet Drive. He blinked once, slowly, and when he reopened them the big blue bus was next to him stopping with a huge protesting squeal.

The bus looked like any other London bus, except it was blue obviously, but at the same time, there was something very odd about it. Standing on tiptoes to look through the windows Harry was shocked to see beds on the bottom floor and… _Is that a chandelier? _Harry asked himself.

"Hello, thank you for calling the Night Bus, my name is Jiminy and I will be your conductor today," a man at the end of the bus was reading off a card. When he finally looked up from his flashcard, he saw no one, as Harry was obviously a bit shorter than what he'd been expecting. Harry, despite himself, giggled. Firstly, the man was wearing a dress, and secondly, his confused expression was hilariously. "Oi, what are you laughing at, kid?" the man asked, leaning down.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly trying to restrain himself. When the man, _Jiminy_, Harry vaguely remembered him saying, cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, Harry couldn't help himself. "You're wearing a dress mister," he mumbled still trying to stop his giggling.

"A dress," he looked down at his attire, "these are robes young man. Why would I wear a dress?" He was definitely confused. Now he wasn't the only the only one. _Why is he wearing robes? _Harry wondered. "You did hail the Night Bus didn't you, kid?"

"How would I have done that?"

"Sticking your wand arm into the street," the man was starting to look a bit worried now, Harry couldn't fathom why though. Then something clicked.

"Wand arm?"

Now the man definitely looked worried. "Kid, you are a wizard aren't you?"

Harry let the man's question sink in. His first instinct was to say, _Wizard? Magic doesn't exist mister… _but then he thought about his special 'powers' and then Vernon's rant a couple weeks earlier when Harry had mentioned maybe it was 'magic' that he'd suddenly appeared on the school roof while running away from Dudley and his gang of thugs, Vernon was insistent on the idea that 'THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS MAGIC'. _I wonder… _Harry thought.

"Yes I am mister," he replied, surprised at the confidence in his tone. "Just felt like winding you up," he gave a cheeky wink and then crossed his fingers hoping his little act would pass.

The man looked apprehensive for a moment but the look quickly passed as he let out a relieved chuckle. "You young 'uns these days!" he exclaimed running a hand through his hair. "Thought I'd gone and messed up by telling a muggle, I did. Stupid I am, muggles can't even see the bus, they can't," he shook his head. Harry noted the term muggle and stored it for later, he could only assume it meant someone who didn't have powers and magic. "So you want a lift or not kid?"

Harry took a quick look around Privet Drive. "Oh I definitely want a lift!"

Jiminy stepped aside, allowing Harry onto the bus. Harry looked around in awe at the bus. It was huge inside! There were beds on the first floor and upstairs appeared to be a terrace and there really was a chandelier in the middle!

"Wow," Harry muttered, taking a seat on the nearest bed.

"Take it away Ern!" Jiminy called, seemingly to the driver.

"Yeah, take it away Ernie!" was an echo in an accent Harry would associate with Jamaica but that was only from the occasions he'd managed to hide by the living room door while the Dursleys were watching TV.

Suddenly, the bus gave a start and hurled itself down the street at a speed that Harry hadn't thought possible. He clung to the bedpost for dear life.

"So where you headed kid?" Jiminy asked him over the newspaper he was now reading. Harry's eyes were fixed on the images. The images were moving. Jiminy stood against the opposite side of the bus, somehow completely unaffected by the jumping and hurdling of the bus.

"Um," Harry racked his brain for an answer. "Shopping," he said finally, cringing at how lame he sounded.

"So Diagon Alley?" Jiminy supplied, giving him a queer look.

"Yeah!" Harry jumped at the name. "Diagonally!"

This awarded him another odd look from Jiminy. "What did you say your name was, kid?"

"James," Harry said quickly, unsure why he didn't give his first name but figured he might as well cover all his tracks if he truly wanted to get away from the Dursleys. "James Evans." His middle name and his mother's maiden name; perfect!

"Well, James Evans, where are your parents?"

Now he was stuck. "Erm…" he began. "They're waiting for me at the inn," he really hoped there was an inn at the Diagonally place.

"How come they're at the Leaky Cauldron if you was out on your own in muggle Surrey?"

"They like giving me freedom," Harry shrugged, hoping he looked as casual as he was hoping for.

"Lucky you kid!" Harry sighed with relief. "Wish my parents had been like that when I was your age," Jiminy was saying. "Those were different times thought obviously."

Harry suddenly flew into the window, smushing his face significantly, as the bus jolted to a halt.

"And here's the Leaky!" Jiminy announced. "You take care now Evans."

"That was… Fast?" Harry said getting up. "Wait, don't I need to pay you?"

"Course it was fast! Pre-Hogwarts kids like you are free, haven't you ever travelled by Night Bus before?"

Harry shook his head quickly and wasted no time jumping up and off the bus. "Thanks mister Jiminy," he called. "Thanks Ernie!"

"Take it away Ern!"

"Yeah take it away Ernie!"

With a pop, a squeak and a squeal, the Night Bus was gone.

Harry turned around and walked into the Leaky Cauldron, wondering what he'd find inside. Even his wildest fantasies didn't prepare him for what he saw. In one corner was two chairs jumping around and wrestling each other. A broom was sweeping by itself in the corridor on the right. On the table in front of him a spoon was spinning in a cup of some hot drink with no apparent force acting on it. A woman sat in a booth talking to a cat as if it were a real person. Plates loading themselves into plastic boxes which hovered in various areas of the room. Candles were floating around in the air lighting up the place. A ghost, a real ghost, sat cackling in the rafters.

"Just like magic," Harry murmured, entranced by the curious actions of the objects of the room. "No, actual magic," he corrected himself. Walking slowly and dodging around the random floating objects, Harry made his way over to the bar tender. "Um excuse me?" he called, standing on his toes to be able to see over the counter. "I'd like a room please."

The man behind the counter looked about mid forties or so and had been busy directing a box of dishes to a room behind him when he'd heard Harry's small voice. He turned around and bent down so he was about Harry's height and smiled. "Is that so young man?" he asked. He chuckled lightly. "Where are your parents?"

"Not here," Harry answered shortly. That question was beginning to get on his nerves.

"So you're here all alone and would like a room and you have the money to pay for it?" the man asked, looking Harry straight in the eyes, a questioning air about him.

"I'm older than I look," was the only response Harry could come up with. A small shrug came with it, as did a small smile.

The man laughed, straightening and standing up. "I'm sure you are!" he said. "Will this be a set stay and paying up straight or a pay-as-you-go visit?"

Harry let out a sigh of relief that this man was actually taking him seriously. "Pay-as-you-go," he answered after a short consideration figuring he didn't know anywhere else to stay at that point.

"That'll be fifteen galleons per night then," the man explained. "Food is separate however but most meals here aren't more than five. First payment now or in the morning sometime?"

Harry stopped. Had the man said fifteen galleons? Harry had never heard of galleons, maybe wizards had their own currency. "Sometime tomorrow if that's alright, sir," he said figuring it would give him time to figure out what exactly galleons were and where he could exchange some of his pounds for some.

"Alrighty then!" the man smiled at him. "Now then, none of that sir business. The name's Tom," he held out his hand. "And you are?"

"James Evans," Harry took Tom's hand with an equal smile but was slightly confused when his kind features turned hard and curious.

"James Evans you say?" Tom leaned forwards, like he was examining Harry. His eyes darted suddenly to his forehead and he gasped, "Oh Merlin!" he glanced around him. "Harry Potter?" he whispered.

Harry felt himself go numb. This man, Tom, knew his name. "How do you know my name?" he asked, narrowing his eyes to glare solidly at the bartender.

"How do I…?" Tom began, stuttering slightly. "I… You… Tell me you know!" he managed finally.

"Know what?" Harry asked.

"About… _That _night," Tom was fidgeting now looking rather nervous. Harry's blank expression was obviously enough of an answer for the man. "Come with me, come with me," he beckoned, going around the counter and beginning to hustle Harry through a side door. "Maria I'm stepping out for a bit, the counter's yours!" he called before closing the door behind them.

The room was obviously a storage room. It smelled like damp paper and old tea bags. It was dark and full of towering boxes with small puddles here and there. Tom pulled out a stick, which Harry figured to be his wand, and whispered, "Lumos," Harry was transfixed for a moment on the little ball of light that emanated from the end of the wand. He quickly shook his head to snap out of it, knowing there were more important things to focus on.

"What is going on here?" he demanded. "The Dursleys can't have already figured out I'm gone. Don't send me back there! Please you can't," he begged beginning to shake with worry.

Tom's old eyes went wide as he watched the trembling little boy. "Hush child," he whispered, going down onto his knees and putting his hands on Harry's shoulders. "I took you in here for your protection."

Harry looked up, his question clear in his eyes.

Tom sighed, wondering what had happened to this boy. This was not the Harry Potter anyone expected but he had no doubt that it was the true one. "Shall I tell you a story?" he asked carefully, gently guiding Harry down to sit on the damp floor. "A long time ago there lived a powerful dark wizard whose goal was to be all powerful, feared by all and leader of the world. This man was known as You-Know-Who, so feared was he that most feared even to speak his name. One day a prophecy was made about this dark wizard stating that a boy was to be born who would be his downfall. So naturally, the dark wizard set out to destroy the little boy before he was old enough the fight him. On that Halloween night, the dark wizard entered the boy's home and he cast the killing curse. But, and no one knows why this may be, the boy did not die. Instead the dark wizard was the one to fall."

Tom finished his story and there was silence. Harry was looking at his hands. "That's an interesting story," he said finally. "I've never heard it before. Did you think of it yourself?"

Tom shook his head slightly and sighed. "No I didn't," he said. "It didn't need to because it's real." He looked at Harry quickly. He had raised his head and was looking straight into his eyes. "Harry, the reason I dragged you in here is because… That little boy is you."

Harry's jaw dropped. "What?" he exclaimed. "But it can't be! I'm not some super special child, I'm… Harry. I'm just Harry!"

"Well 'just Harry'," Tom repeated chuckling lightly. "It just so happens you are very special and very famous too at that."

"I'm…" Harry was having a hard time comprehending it all.

"Sorry for springing it all on you but it seemed you needed to know," Tom said apologetically.

"Erm…" Harry began, unsure what to say. "That's alright, thanks mister Tom. But… Are you sure its me?"

"If I wasn't already before I met you, seeing that scar of yours proved it for me," Tom smiled.

"My scar?" Harry asked. "But that's nothing special. Just something I got in the car crash when I was little. My parents died in that car crash," he muttered.

"Harry, your parents didn't die in no car crash and, as sure as Merlin's beard was white, that scar you got yourself is a curse scar. You didn't get that from no car crash, son," Tom said, questions bubbling in his mind. "Who told you all that nonsense?"

"My aunt and uncle," Harry mumbled.

"They those Dursleys you were talking about earlier?" Harry nodded. "Muggles?" Harry nodded again. "I see. And why've you left them?" Harry didn't reply. "Harry?"

Tom reached over to pat Harry on the back. Harry let out a strangled hiss of pain as he jumped back out of reach of the man.

"Harry please come here," Harry shook his head mutely, standing stoic in the corner. "Harry let me look at your back," another shake of the boy's head. "I just want to help you."

"Why?" Harry exclaimed suddenly, anger clear in his tone. "Why do you want to help _me_? No one ever wants to help _me_."

"Because I'm seeing a small boy who has had to grow up too quickly and is in need of care, that's why," Tom said. "Please let me help you."

Harry made no effort to move but there came no headshake. Tom stood slowly and walked over to him. He reached down for the boy's shirt and pulled it over his head.

"Oh goodness," he whispered.

He saw the cross hatched gashes along Harry's back from the belt. He saw the huge wounds from the kicking. The bruises covering almost every inch of skin made the little boy look almost like a piece of arm.

"Oh goodness," he said again. Taking a deep breath, he knelt down to Harry's height once again. Gently turning the boy's head to face him. Harry's face was flushed with embarrassment as he tried to cover his torso with his arm. "You are never going back there," Tom said, looking straight into Harry's emerald eyes. "Not as long as I have anything to do with it."

A single tear fell from Harry's right eye. The first tear he'd shed in four years. He leapt at Tom, ignoring the painful protesting of his body. "Thank you," he sobbed into the man's shoulder, clinging to his tightly. "Thank you."

HP-HP-HP-HP-HP

With the help of Tom, Harry was able to almost start a new life. The first part was a check up by a Healer, which Harry learned was a magical doctor. Healer Abbott was apparently an old friend of Tom's and she came to the pub that night and fixed his cuts and gave him salves for the bruises. Harry stared in awe as cuts and wounds pulled together and sealed themselves leaving nothing but thin scars that looked like they would fade within the week. She even managed to fix his eyesight so he could actually see properly. He was thrilled to say the least. Harry also got the suspicion that Healer Abbott had perhaps known his parents. "Many of us miss Lily and James all the time," she'd said. "We can be glad now to know that at least you're safe and sound." She also assured him she would tell no one of the visit or his whereabouts but only wished to pass on the message that he was alive and well to a few people who cared. Harry wondered why it seemed to be a question at all that he was alive. If people knew his parents and really cared, wouldn't they have known he was with the Dursleys? That question was stored away for later as he had no way to get the answer at the time.

Secondly, he was introduced to glamours. They spent hours trying to find a good look for Harry so he could go about life without worrying about the chance of being recognised. Tom had warned him that even now, five years after the dark wizard's demise, there were still avid Death Eaters who had avoided Azkaban but would jump at the chance to avenge their lord. So in place of his natural raven-haired, emerald-eyed child he was, people saw a sandy-blond haired boy with sea coloured eyes. They even managed to glamour his skin from the English pale to a vague tan. Harry loved his new look. He spent ages looking at mirrors just admiring the incredible magic.

After glamours, came his name. Tom had explained that going by James Evans was far too obvious. It'd been how the man had realised it was him in the first place as many people knew and loved James Potter and Lily Evans, Harry's parents. Instead he now went by Alex Withers and was known as Tom's nephew by all the regulars at the Leaky Cauldron. Tom had redone the old attic, making it a den of sorts for Harry. Adding tons of one-way windows, Harry could see muggle London on one side and Diagon Alley on the other.

The next matter of business had been the goblins. Of course they would not be fooled by Harry's new identity and he still wanted access to the Potter vault, which he's found out was quite a load, so he'd explained his situation to them and was forever grateful that they'd been willing to help. From Tom's preparation for the meeting and the reading he'd done, he knew that they were a tough race to deal with but Harry could tell they were powerful allies. Their arrangement was that Harry was able to withdraw straight from the Potter Vault if he announced himself as Harry Potter and gave the Potter key, though he doubted that this would happen any time in the near future, or he could take from the 'Withers Vault' if announced as Alexander Withers and giving the 'Withers key'. However the vaults and keys were the same. If Harry ran his hand over the key speaking the words "change to that of the other" it would become the Withers key or vice versa. Harry thought of the Withers Vault as some sort of portal to the Potter Vault. They contained the same items exactly and one could take something from either. Harry found the idea almost impossible to comprehend so he stuck to just thinking of the Withers Vault as his and the Potter Vault as another that would go untouched, though technically all he touched in the Withers Vault was touched in the Potters Vault but it gave him a headache thinking of it like that.

The final part of Harry's transformation to Alex, was clothing. Obviously he couldn't go around forever in Dudley's old hand-me-downs, though Tom had shrunk them to fit and also given him one of his minimised cloaks so he could pass as a wizarding child. He got casual muggle-like clothing for everyday and semi-formal for special occasions at the pub. He didn't bother with formal because he didn't see when he would ever need it. Along with this, he bought ten cloaks in a whole range of colours from red to blue to green to black. Harry loved his new freedom and ability to make decisions but he was too humble to push it and buy everything. He got what he needed and the little bit more at Tom's urging knowing the man only wanted to help make his life better from here on out.

HG-HG-HG-HG-HG

"Don't worry dear I'm sure the other children will be nicer tomorrow."

Hermione Granger growled in frustration, wanting to pull her own hair out. He wanted to scream and shout at her parents. She wanted to remind them that they'd said the same thing every day for the past three years since she'd begun school but the other stupid kids never got nicer.

Hermione was a clever child. She knew she had to be some sort of prodigy. Only just turned eight she'd read the top literacy like Jane Eyre, the Great Gatsby and Sherlock Holmes while most of her classmates still preferred picture books. She read non-fiction too, books on science and history. She believed she had more information in her head than both of her parents put together because she never forgot anything she read.

Her parents. This was where her issues lay. They didn't understand. When she told them she'd finished The Hounds of Baskerville they chuckled, ruffled her hair and said, "Well done sweetie you're a clever one!" When her mother had found her reading an old history textbooks she'd found in bed one night, she'd taken the book and said, "Surely you want a book you can understand, darling?" and had given her a children's story book instead. And, when Hermione had begun coming home from school with scrapes on her knees saying other children had begun pushing her around because they thought she was too clever they'd said, "That's our Hermione, always coming up with such clever stories!" they didn't believe her.

Well now Hermione had had enough. Her mother had picked her up that day and Hermione had a gash on her left cheek. "Oh my little dear, what happened?" she'd asked. "Robert hit me with a stick," Hermione had said. "Now, now, Hermione don't go making up stories about others," her mother had replied, giving her a hard look. "You ran through the bushes at the back of the playground again didn't you?" Even when Robert Ashcroft had run past them and shoved Hermione on their way out, her mother had just smiled and said, "See, Robert wouldn't hurt you, he just wants to play with you."

Hermione stomped around in her bedroom, throwing books and toys she didn't play with everywhere. She wanted to get away from here. She wanted to find somewhere where people would understand her. She knew for sure that her home was not a place like that. _I bet they won't even miss me,_ she thought. _Either way, I don't care. I'm getting out of here._

DM-DM-DM-DM-DM

_I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life._ Draco Malfoy thought to himself as he stabbed the food on his plate with a warrior like passion.

He was at the dinner table with his mother and father being completely and utterly ignored. He had been home alone all day while his father had gone to attend a meeting and his mother had gone for tea with some of her 'friends'. Draco couldn't even call them her friends. He knew his mother only spoke to them because either their families were important allies or they had daughters suitable to become the next Mrs Malfoy. He shivered slightly. The idea was horrific. Here he was, not even seven and a half, and his mother was out browsing for wives for him. The idiocy of their world never ceased to astound him.

Draco absolutely hated his life. He detested it with a burning passion. The one thing he hated more, was his father. His father didn't care about him at all. That much had always been clear to Draco. He knew what he was to his father, a necessity; a pawn for his elite pureblood game. Lucius Malfoy wanted his son only as a sort of trophy. To be able to say "I have a pureblooded heir". Draco was preened to be just that. The perfect 'pureblooded heir'. Unless they were in public, Draco was treated as no more than an inconvenience. Of course he was never made to work or anything of the sort but he was hit on occasion. Asking questions was somewhat of a crime, though Draco couldn't understand why. He knew you couldn't play the game unless you have all the information. It was drilled into him, he'd been taught by Lucius Malfoy after all. Yet still, he found himself knowing nothing and no one.

That was another thing. Draco knew no one his own age. It was tradition that pureblooded children did not meet until they turned ten and only then they met others of their age group who would be their allies during their coming year at Hogwarts. Draco had grown up alone and uncared for and he wanted out.

Draco had decided he had a mind of his own, he wasn't going to play his father's stupid games. He was going to find a way out of there and make his own way. _Just you watch me,_ he thought as he looked at his father across the dinner table. _I'm getting out of here._

GW-GW-GW-GW-GW

Some little girls would say having older brothers was really fun. Six year-old Ginny Weasley was not one of those little girls. Ginny had six older brothers. Bill was the oldest at sixteen, then Charlie at fourteen, then Percy at ten, then the twins, Fred and George, at nine and finally Ron at seven.

Ron and Bill wouldn't let her play chess because she was 'too young to understand the rules', though Ron, who was only one year older, could play because he was good at it. Ginny thought she could be good too, if they let her try. Charlie wouldn't let her fly because she was 'too little' though Ginny knew he'd been flying since he was five. Percy wouldn't let her read big books because they held 'magic too complicated for a six year-old'. Her mum would say 'go outside and play' but what fun was playing alone? Ginny's dad would play with her sometimes when he was home if he wasn't working on some muggle project, which wasn't often at all. Fred and George were the only ones who ever involved her in anything. They would let her in on some of their pranking, which Ginny loved. It made her feel like she was getting some revenge for the way they others always treated her, but not completely. Even Fred and George were always too careful with her. They didn't let her brew any potions or be around while they tested new stuff she could only be around for the safe stuff.

The thing was, Ginny wanted to find her own thing but, in the shadow of six others, it was too hard, there was nothing left. Bill was good at speaking, Charlie was an incredible Seeker and good with animals, Percy was the clever studious one, the twins were the rebels and the pranksters while Ron was some sort of prodigal strategist. Ginny was just a silly little girl to them, 'a little girl who should go play with dolls and stuffed toys' as Charlie had told her the day before.

Ginny wanted a chance to show them she really was special, not just because she was the first female Weasley in however many years but, because she was Ginny. She was sick of the teasing and the others looking down on her and saying she couldn't do anything. She'd hit her breaking point earlier that day when Ron and Percy had picked her up and she'd thought they were going to play with her but instead they carried her to a mirror and put her down and Percy said, "Look at yourself Gin, you're just a little girl, you can't do anything now because you're small and don't understand things. Just wait till your older." Then Ron, the thick idiot he was, said, "Yeah and you're a girl so you have to wait longer to do stuff than boys." Ginny saw red then. They'd walked away and left her there. That's when she decided. If they thought she was such a little girl who knew nothing, then what was the point in her staying?

_You'll see, I am so much more than just a little girl but I just can't prove it to you here. _She thought bitterly with narrowed eyes. _I'm getting out of here._

HP-HG-DM-GW

**A/N: **basically I lost inspiration for my other fics but felt the need to write something and this idea popped into my head and here it is. Let me know what you think in the reviews, your feedback always helps!

I'm going to have quite a few days coming up with nothing to do so I'm going to focus on this fic so hopefully there'll be another update soon :)

Thanks for reading, hope you liked it!

**Next chapter: **An Interesting Group


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: An Interesting Group

One big prank, that's what it was going to be. Or so she told the twins so that they'd help with her escape. Her big escape, finally something that would be about her.

Ginny shoved her last book, Tales of Beadle the Bard, in her little bag and slung it over her shoulder. Stopping at her bedroom door, she took one look and her room and smiled. With any luck, she'd never see this pink monstrosity ever again. Pink was not a colour Ginny liked. In fact, she hated it. Not only did it clash horribly with her carrot coloured hair but that fact that everything shoved on her was some form of pink was ridiculously sexist and Ginny did not appreciate it one bit. Sure, she understood the family's excitement at her being the first Weasley girl in centuries but that wasn't all she was. Not one family member had ever taken time to get to know Ginny or see what Ginny liked or know what Ginny's favourite colour. _Nope, she was just the little Weasley girl we've been waiting so long for, _Ginny thought sarcastically,_ how could she possibly have a mind of her own? _

Shoving her resentment to the back of her mind again, she thought over the day. It was finally the day she'd been planning for. She'd enlisted the twins to help her and they were all too excited to help their 'little' sister carry out her first prank. However, the twins were not a distraction for Ginny to set pranks, they were a distraction so Ginny could get as far from the Burrow as possible before anyone noticed she was gone. This was Ginny's true plan. Of course, she could just sneak off in the middle of the day and no one would notice her absence until dinner. That is, unless her mother had relatives pay a surprise visit or Ron needed a scapegoat to vent out anger on or Percy needed a slave to carry books for him or the twins wanted a guinea pig to test something on or their father came home from work and decided to actually pay attention to her. There were too many chances of just 'sneaking away' going wrong and, besides, Ginny wanted her exit to be with a bang!

The twins were to set off a smoke pellet in the kitchen during breakfast. The pellets were an invention of their own and they made it impossible to see until the smoke either faded or was sucked away by their Anti-Smoke device. _Original name there, _Ginny added mentally with a small smirk. Fred and George were under the impression that Ginny would sneak into the living room and set some 'traps' she'd planned for the family. In reality, Ginny asked for the twins to help plan a noisy, vision-taking distraction so as to give her the chance get to the fireplace to Floo away completely undetected. She imagined her family would be too panicked to quit their hysterics so they wouldn't even hear her opening and closing the side door to the living room or the sound of the Floo flaring as she left.

So that was how Ginny found herself sitting at the Weasley breakfast table, small bag stored under her chair and foot tapping excitedly. She felt completely psyched and couldn't even manage to eat anything. She wanted to set the plan in motion immediately but knew she had to wait for the perfect moment. So, she bided her time, watching every movement of her family. It was like they all worked like clocks, Ginny being the clock master who knew and understood it all. The plates their mother had prepared always started hovering next to either Fred or George. Fred would take the plate on his right, put it between them both, they'd both take only one thing that was on it and then George would put the plate forward before picking up the plate on his left, placing it between him and his twin and the process was repeated with the two of them alternating eat time. Percy, who was sitting next to Fred, or Ron, who was next to George, then took that plate that had been pushed forward. When Percy got the plate, he would take one piece if it was meat, eggs or pancakes and two pieces if it was fruit or bread and then push it across the table to their mother. When Ron got the plate, if it was fruit or bread, he would ignore it, if it was meat, eggs or pancakes he would grab a handful begin shovelling it down as he put the plate down on his other side for their mother. Mrs Weasley would take a small portion of anything for herself and then a smaller portion for Ginny, which she reached over and put on the girl's plate. The plate of food would then go to either Ron or Percy, whoever hadn't had it yet. Once that person was done, the plate was placed between them and whichever twin sat beside them and from there, having completed its circuit; it would float over to a free space on the table. It was a clever system, Ginny thought, she didn't really know how it'd come about but it was natural. It obviously became a lot more complex when her dad was home from work and Bill and Charlie weren't at school but it always worked somehow. It kind of hurt Ginny's head thinking about the processes but she shook her head and refocused on what was going on.

"Pass the bacon, Ron?" she called across the table, knowing full well what his reply would be. The circuit had ended, everyone was busy eating, and it was time. She vaguely registered Fred and George share a small knowing look at their end of the table.

"No way," Ron managed over his mouthful of food, "only one left and girls don't need to eat as much as boys."

Normally, Ginny would've thrown a fit at this comment but today she simply shrugged and turned to Fred. "Pass the fruit please Fred?" she asked, knowing full well he knew what she was really asking for. It took all her strength to keep the smirk off her face.

"Course milady," he bowed his head and picked up the fruit bowl. Ginny kept her eyes trained on his hand. She could see the miniature grey pellet he was holding between his fingers. She didn't miss the tiny movement of his fingers dropping the pellet right into their mother's pumpkin juice.

BOOM!

The grey smoke rose from the goblet and quickly enveloped the room.

"Fred Weasley what did you do?" Ginny heard her mother shriek beside her. "When I get my hands on… Oh where are you?"

Ginny quickly ducked to the floor, the trick to a smoke pellet was that the floor was always clear. Grabbing her bag she began to crawl towards the side door.

"Why now I have work to do you know?" that was Percy.

"I can't see the food?" obviously Ron, Ginny would've sworn he had an extra large stomach instead of a brain.

"Fred!" she almost laughed at George's sarcastic protest. She knew he was only slightly peeved that Fred had gotten to drop the pellet instead of him.

She heard her family's protesting grow louder still. _Perfect! _She thought.

She reached the door and felt for the handle, turning it slowly she made sure to open it only for split second, enough to sneak though, so the smoke wouldn't spread into the living room too.

Shutting it behind her, she turned and leant against it. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Walking over to the fireplace, she stood on her tiptoes and reached for the Floo powder.

_Finally time to go. _She thought as she ran the powder lightly through her fingers. No one would know that she was gone until it was too late. It was perfect.

HG-HG-HG-HG

"Hermione, dear, why don't you run over to the bookstore while your dad and I do the shopping?" her dad asked her. "I hear the new book in the Grace series has come out."

Hermione was out shopping in Kensington with her family, a near torturous experience. Normally she wouldn't even have been able to muster up a fake smile but today, today was special. Hermione could've run to the moon and back with all the excited energy she was keeping in. Today was the day she would finally run away. Get away from her oblivious parents and live a real life. It's just been a matter of the right opportunity to get away without getting caught and here it was, finally, being handed to her on a silver platter.

"Really Daddy?" Hermione feigned enthusiasm at the idea of reading a child's book. Really the smile only came because she could leave.

"Go ahead sweetie, I think I may have even seen Callie Hooper go in there with her mother earlier," he added. "Maybe you can see about finding her?" 

"Awesome!" Hermione was laying it on thick. Her parents wouldn't know the difference either way so she wasn't too sure why she was bothering. _Probably just the excitement! _

One quick wave to her parents and she turned and ran off in the direction of the bookstore. Now, had they been proper parents, they wouldn't have let their daughter run two blocks of Kensington High Street alone even on a slow empty day. With the huge crowds of people, they would've lost sight of her in seconds. Though, Hermione wasn't complaining. For once, their terrible parenting skills were doing her some good. Now, of course, she wasn't actually planning on going in. Even without her plan, the idea of Callie Hooper in there was able to make even Hermione's favourite store seem repulsive. Callie Hooper was a girl from Hermione's class at school, the so-called 'ring leader' of the popular rich girls in her year and it was these rich girls who practically lived for humiliating Hermione. Many a time had Hermione had to come home from school covering in nail and bite marks thanks to Callie Hooper. Hermione swore that if she ever had to see that little brat ever again she would make her pay for the humiliation and pain she'd made Hermione suffer through. Revenge would come on Callie Hooper and several others, Hermione would make sure of it.

Having walked almost to the bookstore, Hermione cast a quick look over her shoulder and was relieved to see her parents were nowhere in sight. "Brilliant!" she muttered to herself as she waited patiently at the crossing. The green man saw Hermione all but sprint across the road and over to the bus stop.

_I'll get the… 64! Let's see where that'll take me. _Hermione was getting on a random bus and planning to get off at whatever stop she may choose. _Freedom at last! _

She stood there for a few moments. First tapping her foot, then snapping her fingers, then jumping around a bit. She was having a lot of trouble containing her excitement. She was finally about to leave; the only thing stopping her was the fact that the stupid bus wasn't coming. Hermione was about to start getting angry when suddenly, as if by magic, at that exact moment, the 64 bus pulled in to the stop. _Finally time to go_, she thought. Skipping on board, not noticing the slightly confused look on the driver's face as he looked around him, almost as if he hadn't realised he'd driven to Kensington.

DM-DM-DM-DM

Draco had given some thought to what day he would choose to be his 'big escape' and he decided he couldn't have chosen better than this day. He stood by his bedroom mirror, admiring his new attire. He was dressed in extremely informal muggle-like clothes and a plain grey cloak with his hair unslicked and frankly quite messy. The worn out red t-shirt contrasting hugely with his pale hair and the roughed up jeans looked right mess. He could already imagine the looks he would see on his parents' faces when they saw him in this. His parents, who were at that very moment, in their own rooms preparing for the Autumn Ball at the Ministry, would freak out beyond belief. First when they saw what he was wearing, again when he made it clear he wasn't attending the ball and finally when he told them they would never see him again.

He took a moment to look around, reconsidering whether he _did _want to bring something rather than leave it all. Looking at the black and dark green oriented room, he shook his head. There was nothing left for him here.

Straightening his cloak one last time, he pulled it around himself and left his room. He headed down the dark corridors, shivering at the doom and gloom of the colour scheme. If he still inherited this house when his father died, there would be a lot of changes made. Sliding down the banister, something he'd always wanted to do, he landed gracefully on the landing, bowing to some invisible audience. Chuckling lightly to himself, he took a running jump and landed on the regal green sofa. Deciding to push his luck further, he got up and began jumping on it. Finally settling down, feet up on the table, he snapped his fingers and called, "Dobby!"

With a small POP! the little house elf appeared, bowing low. "Yes little master? What can Dobby be doing for you?"

"Get me something to eat, something muggle!" Draco demanded, eyes wide with anticipation.

"Muggle?" the elf seemed shocked. "Yes, little master…" with another POP! he was gone again.

Draco rubbed his hands together, licking his lips, he liked rebelling against the rules. No sooner had the thought passed Draco's mind than the little elf was back with a plate. On the plate was a triangle shaped thing. It was flat and red and white. "What is it?" Draco asked, poking the strange thing.

"It is called 'a slice of peezah' little master," the elf informed him. "Is you wanting anythings else little master?"

"No Dobby," said Draco. "Thank you," he added quickly.

Dobby seemed shocked at being thanked but spent no extra time around.

Draco picked up the triangular 'peezah' and took a small bit of the red corner.

"Wow," he breathed, eagerly taking another bite. "Wow!" he exclaimed with his mouth full. It was like bread with tomato and maybe cheese of some sort. Simple but easily the best thing Draco had ever tasted. With this peezah slice in hand, he had the confidence to finish what he'd started.

"Mother!" he called. "Father! I want to leave now! Mother! Father!"

He continued to shout until he could hear their footsteps at the top of the stairs.

"Draco what are you doing? We aren't leaving for the Ball for another hour," his father snapped as he appeared on the balcony at the top. "What are you wearing?" he demanded as Draco obviously entered his line of sight. Draco's mother stood beside him, she said nothing, she never did, but her expression said it all.

"My new clothes," Draco shouted, mouth full of peezah. "Do you like the colour Father?" he pulled aside his cloak showing off his red t-shirt.

"Draco Varian Malfoy, what do you think you're doing?" his father growled at him. "Go to your room and remove those monstrous clothes this instance and then burn them."

"No."

The word seemed to hang around the room for a moment. "No?" his father repeated incredulously, beginning to walked towards the staircase.

"No," Draco said again. He'd never before defied his father and it felt good. "I'm going to wear these clothes, I will eat this food," he waved the peezah for his father to see, "and I will do what I like."

"Draco you have one last chance," his father snarled, halfway down the staircase now.

Draco began walking slowly too, matching his father's pace, towards the fireplace.

"I'm going to leave now Father," he said. "Enjoy your little pureblood life, I sure as hell won't miss it. This is the last time you'll see me if I'm lucky. I'm done being your pawn. Good luck in society without your perfect little heir because I'm done here."

With that he moved quickly, scooping up Floo powder of the mantelpiece with his free hand, he jumped into the fireplace, threw down the powder and whispered, "The Leaky Cauldron."

His father running across the room stood no chance even when he swiped his hand at Draco, he was already gone.

_Finally time to go,_ thought Draco, taking the last bite of peezah as he watched Malfoy Manor whirl away.

GW-GW-GW-GW

Ginny dropped the Floo powder as she took one last look around the Burrow's living room. "The Leaky Cauldron," she said simply and watched the world whirl away into the darkness of the Floo network.

HG-HG-HG-HG

"Primrose Hill," said the annoying bus voice.

Hermione reached forward and pressed the button. As she got up and headed down the stairs, she reflected on the fact that she had no idea where she was, but she didn't care. Something about Primrose Hill felt right. The doors opened and she jumped off. She was in a rather busy street, it almost reminded her of Portobello Road except a bit more plain. Looking around, she tried to find somewhere to go. All she'd thought about was getting away. She hadn't really considered what came next. Then she saw something promising. The Leaky Cauldron: Pub and Inn. _Sure it looks deserted and no one is even looking at it, _she reflected, _but it's a shot at least._

So she walked towards the Leaky Cauldron thinking it seemed to be her best bet.

HP-HP-HP-HP

The day had begun like any normal day for Alex. He'd gotten up late, had breakfast at the counter with Tom, gone to Flourish and Blott's and bought some new books, looked around in Magical Menagerie and considered buying a pet, sat around in his room skimming through his new books, spent a while looking out over muggle London and Diagon Alley, had lunch with Mr Westford, an old pub regular, and was now closing up the inn for the afternoon with Maria. It was a Thursday and nothing happened after lunch on Thursdays and all their guests were out so they'd taken to closing up and having a break until dinnertime.

Alex was just walking over the muggle side entrance when the door swung open to reveal a small bushy haired girl in muggle clothes that looked to be about his age.

"Oh hello," she said as she caught sight of him. "Are you open?"

Alex knew how the room looked, chairs on tables and everything stacked away. It was obvious the girl needed something. "Nope, not technically," he said, sitting on a table. "But I'm sure I can help if there's something you need. Are your parents in the Alley or something?"

"The alley?" the girl repeated, seemingly confused as to what alley he was implying, which Alex found rather strange. The girl shook her head slightly. "Um, no. I was wondering if I could have a room?"

Alex had a quick flashback to when he himself had walked in here and asked Uncle Tom for the same thing. "Why do you need a room?" he asked. "Where are your parents?"

"I need a place to stay obviously," the girl huffed. "And I don't have parents." There was a pause. "Not anymore," Alex heard her mutter under her breath.

Now he knew something was up, he wanted to do something. He felt bad for the girl, she'd obviously gone through something involving her parents and had come away from it alone, he kind of knew what that was like. "I'm Alex," he said suddenly, holding out his hand to her.

"Hermione," she responded a bit hesitantly. "How come you're here if its closed?"

"I live here," Alex said. "My uncle and aunt run the place." There was silence again, then Alex realised something he wanted to ask. "Just out of curiosity, what do you know about magic?"

"Magic?" Hermione repeated. "It's not real, but make-believe. Why?"

Alex ran his hand through his sand coloured hair and sighed, this would be a difficult conversation. "Because-" he began but was cut off by a crashing sound behind him. He ran over to the source, the fireplace. Someone had obviously had a bad trip through the Floo. "Did someone just…" he vaguely heard Hermione behind him. Before he could reach for the newest person in the room who was beginning to get up, the Floo flashed green again and out rolled another person, right into the first.

"Oi watch it!" came a small girly voice from underneath the second body.

"Ungh…" groaned the boy as he was shoved off from the girl.

They both stood slowly, dusting themselves off.

"What kind of exit from the Floo was that?" the girl complained, glaring at the boy. "You landed right on me!"

"Well I guess you shouldn't have been in the way then, should you?" the boy glared back.

"If you'd used the Floo properly then you wouldn't have fallen into me!"

"Well you look like you just left the Floo too so your exit can't have been much more graceful than mine!"

"You're a jerk."

"You're just a little girl."

"Don't call me that," the girl snarled, raising her fists.

"Mmhm," Alex cleared his throat and crossed his arms, interrupting before things got ugly. He stood there just watching them with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, sorry…" the girl mumbled as she saw him, lowering her fists looking rather ashamed.

The boy just looked at him or, more like, examined him. "Who are you?" he asked finally.

"I should be asking you the same question," Alex retorted. "You did just tumble into my home."

"Your home?" the boy asked. "This is the Leaky Cauldron, it's an inn not someone's home."

"Well my uncle owns it and I live here so, yeah, that makes it my home," said Alex, fixing his gaze right on the other boy.

The boy nodded his head, seeming to understand the logistics. "Well, it just so happens I don't have a name," he shrugged.

Alex looked him over. Scruffy muggle clothing under a plain grey cloak, messy pale blond hair and piercing grey eyes, he dressed like he must be half blood or even muggleborn but his facial features and attitude definitely suggested the opposite.

"I know you!" the little red haired girl who'd tumbled in before him suddenly piped up. "You're the Malfoy boy," she said with narrowed eyes.

Alex's eyes narrowed too now, Malfoy was a name he'd heard of. Lucius Malfoy was a slimy Death Eater git who'd avoided Azkaban by throwing his money around the Ministry.

"Don't ever called me that," the boy turned on the girl, pointing his finger at her. "I am no Malfoy." The words were hard and cold. Alex had no trouble believing them.

"I'm Alex, Alex Withers," he said, giving the boy a small polite bow, to which he got a head inclining. Then he turned to the girl.

"I'm Ginny, just Ginny," she said a little too quickly.

"Weasley girl aren't you?" the boy drawled at her, flicking her hair.

"Not anymore," Ginny said, glaring intensely at him and stepping away from him.

Weasley was another name Alex had heard of. They were purebloods but considered blood traitors for their willingness to accept muggles and muggleborns. They seemed like a nice bunch from what he'd heard but there obviously had to be something more to it if their daughter was here alone denouncing their name.

"Ok and this is Hermione," he said, pulling over the brown haired girl who'd been silent since the entry of the wizard and witch. "Now we've all met, how's about you tell me what you're doing here?"

"I want a room," Ginny and the 'not-Malfoy' boy said at the same time, giving each other small glares they turned back to Alex, waiting to know if it was possible.

"Well I don't know if Uncle Tom will be too keen on letting so many kids stay alone so why don't you all stay with me?" he said. "I'm up in the attic and I reckon there's enough space for us all."

The three all shrugged non-committedly. Alex just gestured for the stairs and headed up, knowing they were only a few steps behind.

HP-HG-DM-GW

"This is it," Alex said as they finally made it up to the top. "Welcome to my world."

He turned around to see their amazed looks.

"What's this?" Ginny asked looking at the muggle side window.

"It's a window," Alex teased, giving her a quick wink. "It's muggle London on the other side of the Leaky."

"Wow…" Ginny uttered softly, captivated by what she saw.

"Alex, what's this?" Hermione called from the other side of the room. She too was gazing through a window, but was watching Diagon Alley.

"That's Diagon Alley," he said. "You know what you said about magic earlier?" She nodded but didn't look away. "You were wrong," he whispered in her ear.

"Wow…" she whispered back. No doubt her eyes were glued to the different magical displays visible in the alley or the wide range of new shops she'd never heard about.

"So this is where you live?" the pale boy asked, standing in the middle of the room taking in the different posters, magical and muggle, on the walls along with Alex's crystals of TV shows and music, his own creation to bring with muggle culture to this world, the area of the attic where the floor was made up of cushions, the different magical light currents moving along the ceiling, the massive TV screen on the far wall, the long rows of books along the bases of the walls.

"Yep," Alex said. "This is where I live."

"Who put this place together?"

"Me and Uncle Tom did," Alex smiled, remembering the long day they'd spent deciding on themes and posters.

"It's incredible."

"Yeah I know," Alex said. "Come on over here, all of you," he called, leading them to the area of cushions that he called his Hollow. Tapping his finger on some runes on the wall, four armchairs appeared in the middle of the Hollow. It was a complete coincidence that Alex had originally decided on four chairs but he realised now it was perfect for them. Taking a seat in a soft dark blue one with a black and a green pillow on it, he gestured for them to take one each. Ginny took the white on with the red linings, Hermione the brown one with a light blue blanket draped over the back and the pale boy, who Alex felt needed a new name and soon, finally took the grey one with black and blue embellishments and a white pillow. "So why are you all here?" he asked. They all looked around the room, a bit uncomfortable and unwilling to speak. "Really? No one?"

"I got bullied at school for being clever and no one ever believed me when I told them," Hermione finally said. "Even my own parents. I couldn't stay there, it was getting worse. I wanted to go somewhere where people would care about me and believe me. But I didn't know a place like that so I just got on the bus and ended up here." They had all listened to her, nodding along.

"I lived in the shadow of six older brothers who are all really good at something but because I was the 'little girl'," Ginny shot a quick glare at the pale boy here, "of the family, I wasn't allowed to do anything. They teased me and were mean to me and no one would ever actually stop and think "are we too harsh on Ginny sometimes?" nope they all just went ahead and I couldn't stand it. So I left. I just wanted someone to see me as special but none of them ever would. So I organised a distraction and went through the Floo. Came here because it's the only place I know in Wizarding London where you can stay," when she finished, she looked down at her lap, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"Well I haven't got a sob story, hate to break it to you all," pale boy drawled when all eyes turned to him. "My parents are pureblood bastards who don't care about me. I was only an heir. I had no free will and my father was some kind of dictator to me. I couldn't stay there. It was hell waking up everyday knowing my mother wouldn't speak to me and my father would boss me around as if I were no higher than a house elf. I could never defy him or he'd hit me," he paused with a vaguely sad expression. Then his sadness began to fade and some sort of triumphant smirk took its place. "Then today I put on a show for them. Wore this, slid down a banister, jumped on the sofa, ate muggle food, told them they were stupid jerks and they'd hopefully never see me again, jumped in the Floo and came here."

Alex looked them all over. There was no doubt that they were all being truthful. "I'm not who I say I am. I've been here a month and I came from circumstances you wouldn't believe." Alex said, looking at each of them for a small moment.

"What do you mean you're not who you say you are?" Hermione was the first to burst out.

"My real name isn't Alex Withers," he shrugged.

"So what is it then?" Ginny asked, barely containing her curiosity.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he replied to her.

"So we tell you everything about us, and you give us that?" pale boy drawled, crossing his arms.

"Maybe you'll find out some day, but not today," Alex said. "Perhaps it comes down to trust."

"We trusted you, what more do you want of us?" Ginny asked.

Alex took a moment to think the question through. "I want to know your loyalties," he said at last. "Where do your loyalties lie?"

The three seemed rather stumped by the question. It'd obviously taken them by surprise.

"With myself," the boy was the first to answer. "And I think with you." He paused, rethinking what he'd said. "I may not know exactly who you are but I sense something about you, something different. That's the feeling I want, the feeling I need. You're powerful and I'll stand by your side."

The two girls looked shocked at the proclamation of alliance they'd just heard. All the same, they instantly took on expressions of deep thought. Obviously debating what was going on.

"I'm with you too," Ginny said finally. "This feels right to me."

Hermione was quiet for a moment longer. "Me too," she said quietly. "You were nice to me and you're offering me a place to stay where I feel like I might be accepted. I may not know how this world works but I stand by you."

Alex sat quiet, examining each of them only to detect complete and genuine truth behind their words. He cracked a wide smile. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. I honestly don't think you'll regret this," he smirked at their lack of knowledge of what would happen next. "Now, as for who I was. Until about a month ago, before I became Alex Withers as you see me now, my name was Harry James Potter. I believe some of you may have heard of me?"

HP-HG-DM-GW

Alex warmed up to his three new friends very quickly and found them opening up to him and each other more and more as time passed. They all had multiple traits in common but at the same time very wildly different. The weeks that followed were a long and tiring process for the four children. First came their very own transformations. Each and every one of them had a past to shed and they all agreed that adopting and creating their own individual identities was a path they wanted to take. Now in the place where Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy had stood, were Esme Levesque, Scarlett Dray and Oliver Hawthorne.

Esme stood tall with a regal look about her. Gone was the fiery red mane she'd once claimed and in its place were long black silky waves, so dark that they almost looked blue. Her eyes had not changed too drastically. Those, which had once been a bright sky blue, were still of the same colour but a much deeper shade, like the sea at midnight. Long dark lashes framed these eyes, giving her an innocent wide-eyed look, which could've broken even the hardest of hearts. These dark features contrasted massively with her pale, freckle-less skin but also highlighted her elegant cheekbones and her pale red lips. She was beautiful, no doubt, even at the young age of six. Esme was the one in the group that always knew how to get what she wanted, Oliver thought her extremely Slytherin for a girl raised in a family of all Gryffindors for all time remembered. Along with this came a fiery temper, they all knew not to mess with her in a bad mood or they may not live to tell the tale. Despite this, she was an extremely fun girl who always knew how to have a laugh.

Scarlett had a softer look to her than Esme, but was still nothing short of stunning. What had once been an untameable brown bush of hair was now loose glossy auburn locks that hung simply just below her shoulders. Her eyes, once a murky brown, were now a dazzling bright twist of green and brown, so special that no one could simply refer to them as 'hazel'. Her skin was a soft faded tan, like someone who'd been on holiday a few weeks previous and glowed healthily. A small, cute scatter of freckles across her nose and cheeks gave her the perfect little girl look while still looking mature for her age. Scarlett was no doubt the clever one in the group and they all accepted that. She was the mature one who they generally turned to if they had problems. However, she was also the cheeky one of the group, infamous for teasing them all to their limits when she was in a good mood. It was Scarlett, surprisingly enough, who became the sarcastic voice of the group, never short on witty comments or comebacks.

Oliver, just like Alex, was the kind of boy adults would look at and say, "In a few years, he'll be a heartbreaker". With longish light brown hair that he could sweep to the side in a casual style while at the same time it never looked anything less than perfect. His eyes had not changed much. The orbs that had once claimed to be almost silver were now a pale sapphire blue with what could be described as an explosion of dark blue at their centre. Sometimes startling yet stunning at the same time. His skin was regular 'Muggle English' pale, yet it could be distinguished from the Pureblood shade of pale that was clear on Esme. Oliver quickly claimed the role of 'bad boy' in the group. His clear 'don't-care-what-anyone-thinks' attitude was slightly irritating for the others to begin with but they accepted it as things moulded into shape for them. He sometimes adopted a 'strong and silent' appearance when he was deep in thought, this was always a sign to the group that had come up with something meaningful and important. They knew Oliver was always right about whatever he said after a phase like that. Despite Scarlett being the sarcastic one it did not stop Oliver from his drawling and snippy comments, anyone else would've called him arrogant and rude but the group knew he only ever spoke what he saw though the way he said it, may not always have been the right way.

Alex became the unspoken leader of the group. His 'don't-mess-with-me' tone was usually the only thing that could make the group serious. Well that, and their lessons of course. Each of the four had a 'commander mode', as they called it, which they all adopted when teaching. Alex, as he was now quite advanced for a child their age, took up tutoring them all in the basic magic he'd been learning. Oliver took over informal classes on Wizarding etiquette, as skill they'd decided was probably going to be necessary at some stage in their life and it would be a waste not to learn some. They went over everything from dancing to meetings to table manners. Esme became the expert on flying from the times she'd stolen her brothers' brooms and took up teaching the others. It was soon established that, while she, Alex and Oliver were natural flyers, Scarlett was simply not cut out for leaving the ground. The girl made an excellent commentator however, which led to extremely entertaining sessions. Along with flying, Esme also became the gruelling fitness coach for them. One day they would be fighting, why not prepare early? Sit ups, push ups, pull ups, any drill Esme could think of, they did and it definitely didn't harm them but set them on a straight path for abs and muscles adults would die for. Scarlett, as well as being the witty commentator of everyday life, also became their guide through muggle items. Many of which ended up being reprogrammed to run off of pure magic, rather than electricity, and could be found somewhere in their Lair, which was the name they'd ended up giving to their attic at the Leaky.

All in all, the four made a striking group. They were extremely advanced at magic for their ages, Accounts were set up for the three at Gringotts. Esme's and Oliver's made up of money from trust vaults made in their former names that they'd raided before their families caught up with them and possibly barred the money from them. Scarlett's was made up of the Muggle money she'd bought from home, which had been exchanged for Wizarding currency.

They all bought necessary clothing from Madam Malkin's and started off their new lives in a promising way.

The attic also underwent a few transformations, so as to suit ever member of the group. Alex's poster wall was constantly being plastered over by something new from anyone in the group. Eventually, the wall became a battle zone. So as to keep peace, Alex had eventually had to find a spell that made each poster fade and reappear at different intervals so as to satisfy them all, and keep them entertained of course.

The armchairs they'd all taken on their first day in the Lair unofficially belonged to each of them. Alex had the blue, Esme the white, Scarlett the brown and Oliver the grey. It wasn't that anyone had said, "This is my chair," they just all naturally drifted to the same chair each time.

Luckily, colour schemes of the room weren't too much of an issue. Green and blue seemed to be the popular colours, with the occasional choice of red or grey; so much of that aspect could remain the same. The area that had once been Alex's bedroom part, however, changed rather drastically. Now, instead of the one king sized bed, there were four single beds. Two vertically with their headboards against the wall and two horizontal at the ends of the first two, head boards by a window each and footboards almost touching. Alex slept in the vertical bed on the Diagon Alley side with Esme in the bed next to his. At his feet, slept Oliver and the last bed was of course occupied by Scarlett. Each of their beds was different. Alex's was always a mess of dark green sheets with two simple blue pillows. Esme preferred white satin sheets with blue and red stripes, a blue and red pillow to match. Oliver's pillows and sheets were always black and he always slept with a thick duvet and Scarlett, ever simple, had pale blue sheets and a light green pillow. You would see no plushies or toys on the beds of these children; they were far too mature for that. Though, never mature enough to not have pillow fights. That was a long loved habit of the four. They may have been sensible and responsible but they were allowed to act childish once in a while.

The four children grew close in their time together, they would do everything together. Almost every day was spent in the attic studying all kinds of magic possible. Others were spent exploring muggle London. Scarlett still lived for bookstores and her muggle series. Oliver had an obsession with pizza. Alex found their electronics incredible and loved tinkering with them to run on magic in the attic seeing as the wizarding world was too bigoted to keep up with the muggles evolutions. Esme loved their clothes. Sure, Madam Malkin was incredible but no one could make muggle clothes like muggles. They had the occasional venture into Diagon Alley but those were kept short to minimise the chances of meeting other children their age or being asked who they were. They went when they had a craving for sweets that Tom wouldn't cater to or wanted prank materials for nasty guests at the inn or needed more books.

Transactions with Gringotts to fund for their little expeditions were handled in a special way. The goblins had taken a liking to the mature polite children who'd greeted them in Gobbledeegook and asked for their names, this was a treatment the goblins had not been given by humans for centuries past. The fact that it was four children without guardians who'd gone through these actions pleased the goblins to no end. They could see the Wizarding World would soon be shaken to the core by these four powerful young ones and they fully supported the idea. They had given each child a small muggle-looking wallet and all they had to do was press their finger to a certain corner to confirm their identity and say the amount they wanted, muggle or wizarding currency, and it would appear in the wallet from their vaults. It was a highly efficient system only offered to clients the goblins truly respected. Oliver, Alex, Esme and Scarlett were the only wizard and wizard to have been offered them since the 1700s.

These four were special. They may not have understood just how insanely they were going to shake up the world together but they felt something coming and knew they were going to do something great. They had no idea what though so, for the time being, the trained, studied and lived their lives as normal. Well, as normal as life could get for four powerful wizards and witches living in an attic.

HP-HG-DM-GW

**A/N: **I'm actually really starting to love writing this fic. I decided I'd keep the word count at about 7k per chapter for now and was literally shock when I realised I'd hit 9k! Took out a bit and stuck it in next chapter instead.

Thanks so much to the reviews I got last time, they keep me writing and made me so happy!

Hope you liked this chapter please remember to review and let me know what you thought!

**Next chapter: **The Real Lives Begin


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